


You're Gonna Woo A Teacher?

by sophoklesworld



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Unhappy Ending, i guess, trashfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6438058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophoklesworld/pseuds/sophoklesworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of a friendship, forged by destiny, strengthened by love and destroyed by chance.</p>
<p>Prompt: "Crabbe and Goyle deserve love too. They deserve to be happy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Gonna Woo A Teacher?

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored and a lovely friend gave me this prompt. I ended up writing a trash fic (she doesn't think it's trash, she didn't read it yet, tho). anyway. additionally she said: maybe they have a crush on the same teacher. Well. Almost. I didn't stick to the prompt per say.
> 
> But I spent my day writing fic, what do I want more!  
> I hope you enjoy.

 

* * *

 

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle have been friends all their lives. They grew up together because their parents were friends and lived in the same small town. As toddlers they played together on the playground, fought over toys and ganged up against other kids. The summers they spent at either of their houses. Their moms talking and laughing while they recreated the Tales of Beedle the Bard. They bonded over dragon stories and became best friends.

 

*  *  *

 

Then Draco Malfoy came along.

His dad was a tall and intimidating man. Crabbe and Goyle were happy when they had to go into another room the first time the Malfoy’s were at a family meeting. Draco was a little intimidating himself. But Goyle was mostly in awe of him. Because Draco was clever. And he was a good friend. He didn’t make them cry, and when the mean tall blonde man came over again he didn’t look at Crabbe like he was his meal when Malfoy was there.

 

*  *  *

 

When they got into Hogwarts, their parents wanted them to be Slytherin. “You don’t want to be disowned, do you, Gregory?” “Vincent, I expect you to get into Slytherin. The other houses are dishonorable.” “Draco, we don’t have to talk about this, do we. Slytherin is honor. You don’t want to be a disgrace to a family of traditions, do you.”

 

They all were sorted into Slytherin. They shared a dorm beneath the lake. It wasn’t a thing Goyle or Crabbe ever said out loud, but when Malfoy was off to antagonize Potter, they sometimes shared questioning looks, why it was like that. Why they had to do what they were told, why they always had to follow Malfoy’s or their parents orders.

 

*  *  *

 

In third year, Golye was angry at Draco. Because he didn’t listen to anyone, but expected them to do what he told them. But Goyle understood that he just wasn’t meant to give orders. He wasn’t the most intelligent person at Hogwarts, he just was intelligent enough to recognize the fact and knew he was better off with Malfoy at his side than without. At least trouble was predictable then.

 

Sometimes, though. Sometimes Crabbe and Goyle would wander off without Malfoy. He was so obsessed with Harry Potter sometimes, that Goyle wondered if it only ever was hatred that drove Draco.

 

Over the years of quietly observing Malfoy and other people, Goyle learned to read peoples feelings. He wasn’t good at spells. He couldn’t create and execute plans like Malfoy, but he always recognized the love in his parents eyes, the arrogance in Lucius Malfoy’s stare and the fear in peoples faces when they talked about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

He didn’t have anything better to do, bored by just following Malfoy around sometimes so that he started to pick up the emotions on other peoples faces.

 

Small things at first. Like how Snape’s jaw clenched with anger when he looked at Harry and Harry didn’t see it. Later, he realized that there was more than anger and hatred — pain. He didn’t know why, he just knew it was there.

 

The longing stares of Pansy Parkinson started to annoy him after two years, because the more time passed, the more he realized that Malfoy didn’t appreciate them, didn’t want them. He wanted something else entirely. It took a few years, but Goyle was now able to decipher the look in Draco’s eyes whenever he saw Harry. It was an obsession and Goyle didn’t think even Malfoy understood how deep and tangled it was. At least not yet. He wasn’t a fool enough to tell Malfoy or even cut the topic.

 

Crabbe was easy. He’s always been easy to read for Goyle. They grew up together, they made each other laugh and cry when they were still in diapers.

It was in fifth year, that Goyle talked about this one thing he saw in Crabbe’s eyes for over a year now. 

This were desperate times, and they couldn’t afford any trouble. Not like this.

Goyle didn’t know how to approach the subject, especially because feelings tended to confuse Crabbe. So he started with something else that was bugging him — Umbridge. She had started to order them around like Malfoy to hunt down Potter and one of his insidious conspiracies.

“I don’t like her”, he told Crabbe when they were in the Great Hall for tea. The only other people in there occupied the Ravenclaw table.

Crabbe’s mouth was too full to ask, but he raised his eyebrows in question.

“She looks at us like we’re dirty Muggles. Like we did something wrong and she wants us to feed us to her cats. Like Yaxley did before Hogwarts.”

“Why do you ‘ink that?” Crabbe asked, mouth still too full.

Goyle figured there was no way around it.

“Because she thinks we’re standing too close together, Vince.”

“I don’t get it.”

Goyle closed his eyes. He knew feelings and interpersonal actions weren’t really Crabbe’s strong suit. In a low voice, Goyle explained.

“Vince, I like you, okay? And I see the way you look at me. You like me more than other people. I know that. And that’s okay. But you know where we are. You cannot look at me like this, okay?”

“Of course, I like you better than other people. What’s your point?”

The point was, that Crabbe was in love with Goyle, the point was, Golye was also in love with Crabbe. The point was, that the sharks were out for them already, and there was _no way_ they’d be left alone. Maybe Malfoy would; if Goyle asked him about Potter, but not their parents, not Umbridge and not the World of Wizards. Maybe Goyle had been speaking a little cryptic.

He decided to change tactics. Guide Crabbe to allowed emotions instead.

“Nevermind. How’d you like that Patil girl from Ravenclaw?”

Crabbe just shrugged and stuffed his mouth.  
“Come on. I saw you looking at her the other day. You like her?” Goyle said and took a bite of his own cake.

“Dunno.”

“What about Lavender Brown?”

Crabbe sneered. “She’s a _Griffindor_.”

Goyle didn’t know when Crabbe became like this, but it made him hate the houses even more. Why could they not all be friends or enemies without those barriers?

“Who then? Anyone?”

“I guess Trelawney is nice.”  
Goyle choked on his orange juice.

Malfoy chose this exact moment to come up behind him.

He clapped Goyle on the back and rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re not already dead. Both of you, how can you survive your own eating habits?” He didn’t let them answer — not that Goyle would’ve had an answer. Instead, Malfoy kept talking.

“By Merlin’s beard, I followed Potter all day and I swear if he talks to that Lovegood weirdo one more time to day, I’m gonna throw up. What’ve you been talking about?”

Goyle was still breathing orange juice so Crabbe the first to answer. “I told him I liked Trelawney, and not this Patil and Brown girl.”

 

It wouldn’t have been surprising if Malfoy’s eyebrows had shot up over his head and up to the sky ceiling of the Great Hall — they’re wizards, they should be able to do shit like this. As it was, he only gaped at Crabbe, eyebrows disappearing in his hairline. Goyle choked again, on air this time. He thanked all great wizards that Crabbe didn’t mention the part of him liking Goyle.

When Malfoy spoke he seemed torn between puking and curiosity. “Your taste in women is beyond help and you are once again surprising me with your utter ability of surviving through sheer stupidity.”

Malfoy stood up, picking up a muffin. He turned back to Crabbe and said considering like a challenge, “Good luck in your attempts to win her heart.”  
With that he headed out, leaving behind a confused looking Crabbe and Goyle.

Crabbe turned to Goyle, his mouth open for a question, but then he thought better of it, shrugged and turned back to his food.

Goyle wanted to hit something.

 

 

 

That night, Goyle couldn’t sleep. Crabbe was snoring in the bed next to him and by now Malfoy and everyone else was able to tune him out.

He thought about what Malfoy said. “ _Good luck in your attempts to win her heart.”_

It wasn't like Crabbe could go ahead make out with a teacher. Goyle grimaced at the thought of Crabbe making out with anyone.

But then again, he couldn’t really have Crabbe anyway. So why not let him try? There wouldn’t come anything out of it, anyway. And it would certainly be fun to watch him try. That way, people wouldn’t have a reason to look at _them_ strange. They would still look funny at them. Because who in their right mind even thought of Trelawney like that. Sometimes Goyle just didn’t get Crabbe.

The thing was, though, people wouldn’t look at the two of them like there was something there that they didn’t like, that they still wanted to figure out, which they would probably hate Crabbe and Goyle for. For no reason but the uncomfortable truth they couldn’t handle.

He wondered if it would be easier for Malfoy, if he ever chose to let on to his feelings. Probably not. Probably worse. Because he would have to face the same hateful faces, Goyle knew would haunt him, if they knew. But additionally, Malfoy and Potter were on opposite ends of a rope. Goyle couldn’t imagine Draco being welcomed home _ever_ again, if he betrayed his family like this. He’d have worse things coming for him than his aunt, the muggle-born’s wife.

Goyle fell asleep thinking about how much he hated this world sometimes and dreamed about Muggles conquering the Wizard World, Granger leading them, followed by house elves and dryads.

 

*  *  *

 

Whenever Draco was following Potter around, he left Goyle and Crabbe to their own devices. The first few years, it was always McGonagall who caught them and put them in detention. If Snape saw them, he just sent them back to their dorms. When Draco was with them, he pretended he didn’t see them.

 

It was their sixth year and one would think they got cleverer. They were still caught way too often.

Goyle had spent a lot of time at the Crabbe’s house in the summer. It only confirmed that he needed to do something about the whole feelings thing.

The Dark Lord was back, their parents being at Malfoy Manor more often then not. They took Crabbe and Goyle with them, sometime. It wasn’t a place for those feelings. They needed to shut them down. Goyle feared, the Dark Lord might know already. It felt like he’d been in their heads, when he asked them to become part of the Death Eater Society. Either he chose not to acknowledge it, or he didn’t understand. He didn’t strike Goyle as a character who knew a lot about love. He would never approve though.

 

This was, how they ended up with detention.

Goyle made Crabbe get flowers for Trelawney. Just for fun. To take their minds off things (because hello, they’re Death Eaters now, they’re not told shit but ordered to do whatever Malfoy says. And Malfoy was gone more often then not, these days). And then, when they were just making their way up to Trelawney’s classroom, they ran into Professor McGonagall.

 

McGonagall was supervising them while they were cleaning dishes. (“You need to learn how to clean up after yourself, Mr Goyle. Mr Crabbe and you won’t have your parents or house elves to do it for you forever. This way you might do something actually useful.”)

 

“This is your fault”, Crabbe gritted out.  
“My fault?” Goyle actually enjoyed the mindless work.

“You told me to bring Trelawney flowers.”  
Goyle grunted, didn’t bother arguing. “At least we have something nice to do. We don’t have to think about where Malfoy is and why we’re not there helping.”

“You _like_ this?”

“It’s better than doing nothing. McGonagall chose something better than writing stupid texts. I hate writing.”  
“You _like_ McGonagall?” Crabbe almost screeched, luckily quiet enough so she wouldn’t hear what exactly they talked about.

“Mr Crabbe, be quiet! The point of detention is silence.” She cut in from across the room.

They were silent for a moment, before Goyle said, “Well, you like Trelawney. So I thought flowers would be nice.”  
“Then why don’t you give flowers to McGonagall?” Crabbe spit in a fit of genius. Not that the idea was genius at all. Just — genius on a Crabbe and Goyle level.

Goyle turned to him. “If you really give flowers to Trelawney.”

Goyle could get over this stupid idea if it helped getting Crabbe on the winning Trelawney over mission.

“Okay”, Crabbe sounded angry. A moment later he looked even more frustrated then before, because he realized to what he agreed.

Goyle grinned. This was gonna be fun

 

*  *  *

 

From then on, they spent most of the year handing presents to Trelawney.

One day, in Divination they were using Crystal balls for the first time in Firenze’s lesson. Crabbe sat next to Goyle and told him excitedly, that he saw hearts hovering in the air, a candle light dinner, with him and a blurry figure. “This must be Trelawney and me”, he said excitedly.

It hurt to hear Crabbe say that. But the next moment, Goyle’s heart skipped a beat. Because in his crystal ball he saw the exact same thing. Him and a blurry shadow having a candle lit dinner, red hearts floating around them.

“What do you see?” Crabbe asked.

“Fire”, he lied. “Fire in a stuffed room, and some people trying to escape. A few make it. One of them doesn’t.”

“Oh.” Crabbe sounded disappointed. “Do you think, she’s gonna eat dinner with me soon?”

Goyle wanted to punch him, make him understand that he wasn’t in love with this stupid teacher, that no, of course, she wouldn’t. But Crabbe sounded hopeful. And for some reason. He just couldn’t hurt Crabbe like this. Goyle realized a while ago, that feeling this way wasn’t healthy, wasn’t good, would destroy him. He just couldn’t help it.

 

“I don’t know”, he said instead. “I think it might take a while longer. You should take small steps. Maybe next year.”

Crabbe pouted, but his face lit up when Goyle handed him a pudding.

 

Other times, they spent annoying the hell out of McGonagall. They got detention on purpose. Because Crabbe still thought Goyle liked her. But he could read her, and she was fuming most of the time, when he said something nice. It was kinda fun, to get her to the point where she started seething.

Like now. They were sitting at tables, folding the other students’ laundry, McGonagall at the front of the classroom, correcting essays.

“You’re looking great today, Professor.” Goyle said. Crabbe grinned. McGonagall looked up, narrowing her eyes at him. “Thank you, Mr Goyle. Go back to your task.”

“Of course, Professor. But may I say you do not look a single day older than the day we started school?” He got that from Malfoy. He once said it to McGonagall in fourth year to get away without detention.

McGonagall seemed to remember that too, because her surprise was replaced by annoyance. She nodded and turned back to the essays.

“Professor, isn’t Goyle good at complementing?” Crabbe asked, probably thinking he’s doing Goyle a favor. Goyle wants to hit his head on the table. Even he thinks Crabbe sometimes is the stupidest person alive. He’s surprised he even knows what the word ‘complement’ means. On the other hand — he’s caught him reading books not even Malfoy read (Muggle books, so no wonder Malfoy didn’t read them; but they were difficult, so maybe he’s more intelligent than he lets on; even it it’s just Goyle there). Sometimes Goyle just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think. He doesn’t let on that he’s not _as_ stupid as he might look. He’s learned that it’s easier to live, if he didn’t. Less trouble, if people think you’re stupid. And sometimes he thinks Crabbe mastered it even more than him. Then there are times like _this_. Where his stupidity makes Goyle wanna strangle him. And if even Goyle wants to strangle him that often, how often do other people wanna kill him?

 

“Yes, well.” McGonagall’s voice was cold. “I wonder why exactly he does that.”  
“I’m just glad, you’re our teacher and didn’t become a housewife like all the other witches.”

The stare that the Professor turned his way, let Goyle’s blood run cold.

“Are you suggesting I am supposed to stay at a house, nurture a family and not being supported to achieve something in this life?” Her voice was icy and her head turned red. Now, Goyle was cursing his own stupidity. He saw Crabbe flinch from the corner of his eyes.

“N-no, Professor. I wouldn’t. I think more women should be working. Why should the house elves do all the work?”

McGonagall goggled at him and he thought that her head might explode. Goyle had the feeling he missed something and he didn’t now what it was. So he just duck his head and turned back to the task at hand, without saying another thing. He probably went further than he intended.

McGonagall gasped, trying to control herself. Her voice was tight with anger when she said, “You’ll have detention for the rest of the week.”

 

*  *  *

 

When seventh year started, Goyle thought they could stop this farce, but apparently, Crabbe had other plans. Trelawney was still living in her quarters and the first night at school, Crabbe already wanted to bring her a piece of cake from the Great Hall. Goyle clenched his teeth but followed suit.

Draco was in a bad mood. In Goyle’s eyes he was moping. If it was because Potter wasn’t at school or because of the pain he lived through all throughout the summer, he couldn’t say. But it wasn’t helpful and it made Goyle feel edgy. So they just quietly stopped walking with him to their dorms and made their way up the stairs to Trelawney’s tower.

 

“Draco doesn’t look good”, Crabbe said quietly. “He’s skinny.”

Goyle hummed non-committally. They were on the small stairs halfway up the tower when Crabbe just stopped and turned around. Goyle almost ran into him and started complaining, when he was interrupted by Crabbe’s low, urgent voice. “I don’t want to end up like him.”

Goyle stared at him, seeing a fear in Crabbe’s eyes he was all too familiar with. It was the fear people showed often these days. A fear that had been in their hearts till they’ve been small kids.

“Me neither”, he admitted, quietly. “I don’t think we will, if we do what they say.”

“You don’t? Draco did what they said.” Crabbe pointed out. Over the summer, Goyle realized that he was probably the only person Crabbe was this articulate with. Maybe he was the only one who really understood him.

“But he didn’t do it. In the end it was Snape.” They had found out a thing or two about Draco’s order when they were back home in the summer.

“Exactly.” Crabbe said. “He didn’t. And if he didn’t manage to do as told, what makes you think we could?”

“I-” Goyle hadn’t thought about it that way before.

“Exactly.” Crabbe sighed. “So, what do we do?”  
Goyle sat down on the stairs to mull over it. Crabbe sat next to him and handed him a piece of the chocolate cake. He took it gratefully.

“I think we’re good as long as we’re in Hogwarts.” Goyle stated.

“And after that?”  
“Maybe we should leave.”  
“I thought about that, too. Far away. But the Mark. I think they would find us. And they’d kill us for treason.”  
“Maybe we can get rid of the Mark.” Goyle knew he sounded desperate. He didn’t care. There was only Crabbe to hear him.  
“We could ask Draco to get rid of the mark.” Crabbe suggested.  
“Huh. You have put thought to it, didn’t you?”

Crabbe just shrugged, taking a bite of the cake. “He’d come with us.”

“Do you want him to?” Goyle couldn’t resist to ask. He liked the idea of leaving this mess behind. This place where you have to fear your own home, your own family.  
“Do you want to leave him behind?” Crabbe asked in return. He made it sound like they’d leave him to the sharks. Which, admittedly, they would. But there was still Potter. Goyle didn’t know if Malfoy finally made up his mind about his own feelings. He didn’t think so, but there was still going to be something that would keep Draco here, if they asked him to leave.

“We’ll ask him.” Goyle conceded.

Crabbe knocked their shoulders together and when Goyle looked up, there was a tiny smile on Crabbe’s face, and that _look_ again. That dangerous, dangerous look. It warmed Goyle’s heart and ignited a spark of hope inside of him.

For once, he didn’t deny his own wish to touch and put an arm around Crabbe’s shoulders with a sigh.

They sat there for a while longer. It was like escaping the real world for a while, Crabbe gradually relaxing into Goyle’s side.

 

*  *  *

 

Malfoy helped them. They all looked for spells, something to destroy the Mark. They snuck into the Forbidden Section of the library in the darkest night. It wasn’t like Snape minded whatever they did. But other professors still did. And if Snape caught them while they were trying to get rid of the Mark —.

They didn’t want to try him.

They didn’t know if Malfoy would really go with them. But he seemed desperate enough to leave all of this behind.

 

Sometimes, Crabbe and Goyle would go back to the stairs. They didn’t talk much when they were there. They just enjoyed the silence and to be alone and safe, even if it was only an illusion.

 

*  *  *

 

The end of the year was close. They were quietly getting ready to get away. Malfoy was doing most of the work — he still didn’t trust them to get stuff done, even though he gradually seem to realize they were not _as_ stupid. At least sometimes.

 

Goyle started to worry if Draco would come with them, if he’d take that step. He’d be in even bigger trouble than before, if the Dark Lord caught him.

 

And then, everything went to shit. And of course, that involved Harry Potter.

There was a full on war breaking out in Hogwarts and the three of them saw it as their chance to get away. But then message got out that Harry Freaking Potter was back.  
And this was exactly what Goyle feared. Because Malfoy _couldn’t_ let it go. It was like a physical pull and he dragged them along. He made his way to the Room of Requirements with a certainty that Potter would be there, of all places, it was scary.

When Goyle asked Malfoy, why he was so sure, he rolled his eyes and answered in a voice that implied just how stupid this question was. “Because that’s where Longbottom and the others were hiding out for the last few months.”

 

*  *  *

 

They ran through the narrowing corridors in the Room of Requirements. There were so many things.

When they stumbled across Potter, they did the only thing Malfoy ever did when he encountered him. They threatened him. They threw spells his way.

Crabbe yelled “Avada Kedavra” at Hermoine. Goyle hated it, but it was what they’ve been conditioned to do. And they needed to do _something_. 

Then Crabbe started with a new spell and Goyle shouted “ _No!_ Don’t, Crabbe!”

But it was too late. Crabbe was better with dark spells than with the ones taught at Hogwarts. But this one, the Fiendfyre was over his head. Goyle knew, Malfoy knew. And Potter seemed to know it, too.

They ran. There was nothing else left to do.

 

Everything was blurry. They didn’t get far. Malfoy was in front of Goyle, Crabbe behind him. The fire was closing in and there was a wall of _things_ blocking the way. Malfoy tried to push it over with various spells. As soon as Goyle reached the wall, he pushed at stuff with his hands. He turned and his eyes connected with Crabbe’s, who was still a few meters away, followed by flames that ate up everything behind him in thundering waves. Crabbe’s scream was barely audible when a wall of flames pushed around him, like a bubble, pulling him in with hot, blazing claws.

Goyle yelled. He knew he did. The heat knocked him back when it came closer and suddenly he was pulled up in the air by he collar.

The next thing he knew was that he lay on the floor outside the Room. It was so quiet, suddenly. The roaring of the flames blocked out, only distant shouting of an unimportant war left.

“Crabbe”, he said and looked around.  
Malfoy sat next to him. He looked shaken and pale. He looked scared and disbelieving. But Goyle also saw the truth in Draco’s eyes. _Crabbe_.

Distantly, Goyle registered Malfoy talking to Potter and that he pulled him away, in an empty classroom where he murmured spells to block the door.

He didn’t care. There was a pain in his chest. He couldn’t comprehend what had happened. But he saw the picture of Crabbe being taken by the flames over and over again.

There was a pain in his arm. Blinking back into reality, he saw the snake on his arm curling in on itself, eating itself, starting with the tip of its tail, devouring more and more until it was completely gone. There was no Mark left. He was free. He didn’t care.

Crabbe was _gone_. They spent all their lives together and now he was just _gone_. How was that possible.

 

Malfoy pushed him out of the room, towards a statue. Goyle watched him, detached from everything. Malfoy somehow opened the back of the statue.  
“You need to get out. _Now_.” He said, and pushed Goyle into the small entrance of a tunnel.

“Why?” Goyle asked. What did it matter now?  
Malfoy grabbed his collar and shook him. Angrily he said, “Listen here, you useless piece of shit. I did _not_ waste my time for this for almost a year for you to be reckless now and stay. So you get your ass out of this building and away from school grounds — wherever in Hogsmeade you’ll end up, just disapparate to a place _far away_ , alright? Do this for Crabbe!”

The last sentence stung, but it got Goyle to shake himself enough to take a deep breath and just do as he was told. To do as he was told for one last time.

He nodded and looked at Malfoy. “Good luck.” he said and turned around into the unknown world.

“Good luck to you too” Malfoy said behind him, before he closed the entrance and left Goyle in darkness.

Alone. For the first time ever.

 

* * *

 


End file.
